


no more

by rarmaster



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Gen, SHE'S THERE IN SPIRIT!!!!, ok so strangelove isn't IN This one but, otacon was raised by her so like!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 00:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17457521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarmaster/pseuds/rarmaster
Summary: After two years of running from your family, Joy finds you.(AU where Otacon was raised by Strangelove.)





	no more

**Author's Note:**

> i'm never going to write more of this AU and 2019 is the year, i decided, where I stop sitting on WIPs becuase "maybe i'll write more of that AU later and have something more than a context-less oneshot to post" becuase, truthfully, it's not gonna happen ever
> 
> anyway welcome to Mom AU!! Strangelove took Otacon and ran! Emma was adopted into the family!! Otacon goes by Hal becuase Strangelove didn't attach all sorts of connotations to it that makes him Hate It!! EVERYTHING ELSE PROBABLY IS CLEAR AS YOU READ!!! IF NOT I SUPPOSE I CAN RELEASE THE LORE DOC INTO THE WILD BUT, EFFORT
> 
> this was initially written in October, 2017!!

“Hal,” comes the voice, and then again: “ _Hal_.”

There’s a familiarity in it, the disapproving tone and the static produced by the still-not-perfectly synthesized voice.

You’re distantly aware of the sunlight filtering past your eyelids, and realize what this is about. You’ve slept in too late, again. And of course, your mom hasn’t cared enough to drag you out of bed since you were 16, and Emma only does it when she wants to mess with you, so of course. Of course. It’s Joy. Your mother’s romanticized and synthesized version of a woman she once loved, given a cute little robot body so she can help with the chores around the house, one of those chores being _waking up Hal because it’s 2 in the afternoon and—_

Abruptly you realize that, wait a minute, you’re in the latest safehouse you and Snake have scrounged together, and you haven’t been home in like at least two years now, since that whole left-home-to-build-a-Metal-Gear-against-your-mom’s-wishes-even-though-you-had-no-idea-that-it’d-be-a-Metal-Gear thing, and so:

How the actual _fuck_ is Joy here right now.

You sit up and fumble for your glasses, because you can’t see shit without them. They’re on the bedside table, like always, and you move quickly enough to grab them that you nearly break them, but you don’t _care_. As soon as they’re smushed onto your face your eyes swivel around the room, looking for her, this is bullshit, this is bullshit, this is bullshit.

“Hal,” comes her voice again, disapproving and stern. “Just what do you think you’ve been doing?”

You locate the source, finally. It’s the radio on the bookshelf under the window.

“Joy,” you say, and your voice shakes. You hate this. Hate the terror that’s climbing up your throat because _how did they find you already_ and _holy shit, you’re in for it now, any grace Mom would have given you for at least being a man enough to tell her about this straight out is gone._ “Joy how the _hell_ are you—” You swing your feet out of the bed and stumble over the mess you’ve already made of the room (discarded clothes and empty plates and coffee mugs Snake hasn’t gotten around to retrieving yet) over to the radio. You realize you’re still in your clothes from yesterday, regretting the stiffness granted to your legs by sleeping in a pair of jeans.

You push that thought out of your mind to focus on more pressing issues. The radio seems to be set at some frequency between channels? This makes even less sense.

“Did Emma help you!?” you demand, heart climbing into your throat. “How did you _find_ me!”

You should probably do something about severing whatever connection she’s established with the house—did Emma (it had to have been Emma) send the entire A.I. over, or is Joy just wired in through some sort of link? Probably the latter, because Mom would never sanction the former—but you want to know how, first. How is she here. How did they find you.

“It’s not like it was that hard, Hal,” Joy tells you. “You act like we haven’t been searching for you ever since you helped build a goddamn _Metal Gear_ —”

You immediately fumble to do something about the radio. Joy’s disapproving talks are the worst, and you aren’t going to listen to one right now. Absolutely not. She can give a verbal stripping like no other, and it’s too early to for that. It’s too early for this bullshit, in general! You slam the button to swap it from radio to CD mode. Fiddle with the dial to change the station. Neither do you any good. And somehow, neither does turning down the dials for volume??

“Honestly, Hal, what were you _thinking_!” Joy demands. “Building a Metal Gear! Isn’t this _exactly_ what your mother warned you about, _exactly_ what she and I risked our lives to prevent—”

You want to snap something mean at her, because she’s doing that thing again where she forgets she’s literally just a robot and not actually that woman your mom idolized—but more importantly you really should explain yourself so:

“I know I know I know,” you say quickly, trying to get a word in. You get it. You fucked up. And that’s what matters, that you understand and admit you were _wrong_ —“I swear, I had- I had no idea, when I took the job. I didn’t know it was a Metal Gear until—”

“Your mom told you up front it’d be,” Joy argues, cutting you off.

“I _know_ ,” you say, despair gripping at you.

“And yet you took the job anyway!” If Joy was anyone but herself, she might have laughed bitterly. Instead her tone is just sharp, disappointed, furious. “What, did you really just want to follow in your miserable father’s footsteps, and let your skills be used to build weapons of mass destruction?”

“No!” you protest, though only with petulance and no real conviction. You… really had wanted to build a giant killer robot. The nukes thing was the only bit that surprised you about what REX was. Every other gun and weapon was intentional. “I just—” You fumble for an excuse. “I just thought—”

“Let me guess: ‘It’ll protect the innocent, the weak?’—is that what they told you they’d do with it, Hal?” Joy asks, and she steals the words right out of your mouth. “Did you actually believe them? You, of all people, should have known—”

“Yes alright I know I know,” you plead, on your knees by this point. Tears sting in your eyes, and you hate this, hate that she can do this to you. Guilt twists in your gut, and you heave gasps of air in and out, so frustrated with yourself you want to scream. You get it, you’re horrible and fucked up bad, you don’t need her to rub it in your face any longer, but she just keeps going:

“And then what’s all this bullshit, about running away from us, your _family?_ If you wanted to convince us you didn’t mean to make a Metal Gear, then maybe running away like some kind of _guilty party_ wasn’t exactly your best—”

“YEAH I KNOW!” you shout, face in your hands and anger boiling hot in your gut. You wheeze for air, trying to contain all the self-hatred inside of you, usually it’s not this bad but it’s burning nice and raw because nothing stings like knowing you failed the world and also horribly disappointed your family, and you want—

“Hal?”

Snake’s voice.

Of course it’s Snake, because he’s the only other person in this apartment.

You jerk your head up and turn to look at your partner, who stands in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob. You scrub at your tears and look away from him, mind spinning with terror because. How long has he been listening. And also how do you explain this to him. Neither of you really talked about your family lives much ( _he didn’t have much to talk about, you’d rather avoid thinking about it because of how guilty you felt_ ), so you don’t know where to even _begin._ How do you explain to someone that you’re crying because the robot A.I. your mother built of her former lover is ruthless and knows exactly how to make you feel guilty for fucking up and—

“What’s… going on?” Snake asks, looking between you and the radio.

“It’s—” you begin, but:

“Who is that, Hal?” Joy asks, and her tone has become sharp, protective. “Is there someone there with you? Are you in danger.”

“No, no!” you say quickly, waving your hands in front of the radio as if Joy could _see_ you. (Could she? You never did get an answer about how she got hooked up here. Emma probably did it. The fact that Emma was probably listening to all of this occurs to you then and, you want to die, just a little bit.)—But _anyway_ , you have to stop your slightly murderous mombot from trying to kill your boyfriend even though she’s currently a radio and even if she was in her regular body it (probably) wasn’t equipped to kill (but you could never tell, when your mom was someone like Dr. Strangelove) and- and—

“It’s just- um. Dave! It’s Dave!” You decide against Snake last second, making you stumble on your words, but Dave is a significantly less intimidating name, all things considered. “He’s fine he’s. He’s a friend.” _Boyfriend,_ but that conversation could wait. “I promise I’m not in danger.”

“Who are you talking to?” Snake asks, and he has that tone, too—sharp, protective. You are suddenly incredibly aware of the fact that the two people (er… person and robot?) who you would vote most protective of you are in the same room right now and that’s, a lot, really. It’s a lot.

“It’s Joy,” you say, and then remember that Snake knows shit all about your family, or at least not about her. “She’s- my mom. Well.” You stop a second to put together words, then realize what that distorted half sentence sounded like. “I MEAN! _She’s_ not my mom—” (She’s kind of your mom.) “—but my mom built her and she helps around the house and she—”

“Would like to know why the fuck you aren’t home, Hal,” Joy finishes.

The stress of the moment elicits a half-choked laugh from your lungs, and you start to feel light-headed. Just what you needed right now! A panic attack! _Just kidding this is the opposite of what you needed, especially when Snake is watching you like that_.

“Your family finally found you, huh?” Snake asks, after a long moment.

You nod, miserable.

“How bad is it?”

You aren’t sure what to say, and are positive you won’t have time to articulate, since Joy will definitely interrupt you if you try. Your whimpering and your scared expression must have communicated more than enough to Snake, though.

He steps towards the radio, except he reaches behind the bookshelf and—

Pulls the plug.

_Ugh._

You slump with the weight of your stupidity. Why didn’t _you_ think of that?

Snake drops the end of the cord. He turns his attention back to you, his face like stone, though worry makes his eyes narrow. You try and get your breathing under control. You are _not_ going to have a panic attack right now, you are _not,_ this is an absolutely bullshit stupid reason to have one anyway, honestly. So if your lungs could just get with the program—!!

Snake moves towards you, then squats down so the two of you are eye-level. Fondness and concern make his face soften.

“You okay?” he asks, and of course it’s the first thing he asks. Another laugh escapes your lungs, nervous and sharp again. You love him, and sometimes you’re still baffled that this highly skilled super soldier trained to be an expert in the art of death is so fucking gentle with you, cares so fucking much about you. Your pained laugh makes him look even more concerned, and he moves his hands like he wants to touch you but thinks better of it.

You take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut a second to clear your head. “Sorry,” you say. “I’m fine, really.” You don’t want to worry him too much, and, you are… mostly okay. Now that Joy has stopped harassing you all there’s left to deal with is the maelstrom of emotions that bounce around in your stomach. (You try not to think about the fact Emma might still have this place wired.)

“Hal,” Snake says, and it’s disapproving, because he knows you’re lying.

You laugh again, but this time it’s more exasperated. “Alright, alright,” you admit, running a hand through your hair. “I’m- mostly okay?? It’s just, you know, you finally stop feeling shitty and guilty about all the things you did and the family you’re avoiding and then your mombot calls you out of nowhere and reminds you of all the terrible shit you did! Sure, it’s probably in her job description as a mom to give me hell for that but! Still a pretty shitty way to start the day, if you ask me!”

“I don’t think parents inherently have the right to mercilessly chew their children out…” Snake begins.

“I kind of deserved that though,” you say.

Snake’s mouth turns down like he doesn’t agree with you, but he doesn’t argue. Instead he crosses his arms over his chest and Studies you. “Well, what do we do now?” he asks. “We need to get out of here, make some calls, find somewhere safer to hide out?”

You want to. You really do. Every muscle in your body is aching for it, aching to keep running, because it’s easier to run. And you _like_ this life, in a way. You like how it’s just you and Snake in a shared bubble away from the rest of humanity. But. You _do_ also miss your mother, and Emma, and Joy. And something in your chest is tightening, some kind of conviction you can’t shake this time.

“I,” you begin, and hesitate on it. It’s so much effort to drag it out of your lungs, but: “I think… it’s time we stop running,” you say.

“You sure?” Snake asks, and, bless him. You love how he double-checks with you, makes sure you don’t just go along with the first thing your mouth says, because sometimes your mouth is dumb and sometimes you say something when you want the opposite. The softness in his eyes makes you melt, just a little bit. You know he’d run to the ends of the earth with you, if you asked him. You know he’d do a lot of things for you, if you asked him.

You’re almost tempted to ask, tempted to keep running, because knowing that Snake would support you wholeheartedly in it if you wanted empowers you, but… No.

It’s time to stop being a coward.

It’s time to stop acting like your father.

“I’m sure,” you say. “It’s time to go home.”

“If you’re sure,” Snake says. He leans forward and kisses you on the forehead, then gets to his feet. “We better get packing.” He takes at least three of your discarded coffee mugs with him when he leaves the room.

You sit on the floor for a second longer, heart hammering in your chest. You’re still a little terrified. A part of you wants to back out, call for Snake, tell him nope, never mind, change of plans, let’s move back to Alaska—

But it’s alright, you tell yourself. You can face your family. You aren’t a coward.

And you have Snake to back you up, every step of the way. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that more than enough?


End file.
